[A.bout]

Dane C. Eiteneier

Living the life in Oregon

dce@esoteric-photography.com

I’m an independent entity wondering the streets of thought. After years of artistic photography, I’ve finally decided to attempt to get myself out of labor work, and do what I really enjoy: art, writing, and astonishing people. Although, I haven’t quite got away from night shift tile crew at Palm Harbor Homes, as bills demand attention.

I began life as expected: childlike. But, I continued that path through high school in Nevada. Soccer was my out. My way of escape and I managed to pull MVP the final year on varsity. Also, a Noby Stiles award, designed by my coach for most yellow cards in a single season. This, of course, had to be given in secret. It was for the reason that he had explained to me at the beginning of the season, “I can’t tell you to foul anyone, but…” So I did. Many an opposing player spent the game laying on the ground. Eventually, it became a joy to learn techniques of taking people ‘out of play’ and I would practice on my own team members. I’m still unsure whether or not they new what tactics were required of me, and whether anyone actually liked me.

I was a well known name in the referee community. Sometimes they would even threaten me with a card before the game even started.

My soccer style followed me to Italy. I have come to the conclusion that Italians are the most difficult soccer players to play against because every third step, they fly through the air and roll on the ground holding an ankle. It was especially difficult attempting to foul them before the dive, giving them valid reasons to be rolling on the ground and yelling at the referee.

I was able to live in Italy for a few years thanks to the U.S. Navy. Sicily was considered my sea duty, and therefore, I’d spent 4 years in the Navy and never saw a boat.

I had known in high school that the military was the way I’d go. Flying airplanes was a dream and Top Gun added to the excitement. But before I could fly like Maverick, my mother threw me into flight school. Afterwards, I learned single props and gliders believing that the empty skies meant freedom. I visualized euphoric barrel-rolls between houses, dogfights in the clouds, and out-witting any opponent, sending them crashing into Caesars Palace. Needless to say, you can’t do that. I was trapped in the rules of flight, stuck in specified airspace, making proper radio calls, and enduring the harsh technicalities thrown on me by an overly-dominant female instructor. There was no relaxing and I had an immense fear of her disapproval.

Thus, breaking the sound barrier in an F-14 twenty feet above a highway traffic jam was out. However, my mind continued to play tricks on me. What was I to do? I was going to be a Navy SEAL.

 Florida 

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I spent many hours in my teens scanning any books written about SEALs, specifically blocking out parts I didn’t like and focusing on what sounded cool. I would visualize Lethal Weapon accuracy, dodging bullets, and disappearing into thin air. Sometimes it was necessary to crawl through the freezing creek running across our backyard decked out in camouflage (usually black Corduroy pants, soccer shirt, and a scarf around my head) and sneak partially into the neighbors yard. They had some kind of illegal operation going on I was to gather intelligence for. Perhaps I should have gone for the CIA, but the Navy had it coming.

This was not some childish fantasy however, I was 17 and really living it. I couldn’t distinguish between what was grounded and what wasn’t. I could see my future, whatever fascinated me at the time, and It would rattle around in my head until the future caught up with me. It constantly changed and would never let up.

A short while after I graduated High School, it was off to Chicago for boot camp.
What seemed to be a summer camp dressed up in gym class is played off in reality as Full Metal Jacket. The commercials, especially now, are loaded with intense action and suspense. Don’t be fooled. I could base the New Carissa incident on the fact our weapons practice was with laser guns because we could not be trusted to fire live ammo.

Although my Navy experience began strangely: my four year contract turned to six somehow, I lost sailor of the quarter to a guy who got dropped a division, and my mother was battling for me on the west coast to get me what I signed my contract for, the Navy was the best thing I could have done.

After Aviation Ordinance school in Pensacola, Florida, I would be making my way to Coronado for BUDS.

————————To Be Continued—————————–

Esoteric \Es`o*ter”ic\ ([e^]s`[-o]*t[e^]“[i^]k), a. [Gr.
'eswteriko`s, fr. 'esw`teros inner, interior, comp. fr. 'e`sw
in, within, fr. 'es, e'is, into, fr. 'en in. See In.]

1. Designed for, and understood by, the specially initiated
alone; not communicated, or not intelligible, to the
general body of followers; private; interior; acro-matic;
– said of discussions of technical topics and of the
private and more recondite instructions and doctrines of
philosophers. Opposed to exoteric.
[1913 Webster]

Enough if every age produce two or three critics of this esoteric class, with here and there a reader to understand them.–De Quincey.
[1913 Webster]

2. Marked by secrecy or privacy; private; select;
confidential; as, an esoteric purpose; an esoteric
meeting.
[Webster 1913 Suppl.]

Esoteric \Es`o*ter”ic\, n. (Philos.)
(a) An esoteric doctrine or treatise; esoteric philosphy;
esoterics.
(b) One who believes, or is an initiate, in esoteric
doctrines or rites.
[Webster 1913 Suppl.]
Esoteric - WordNet (r) 2.1 (2005) :
Esoteric
adj 1: confined to and understandable by only an enlightened inner circle; “a compilation of esoteric philosophical theories” [ant: exoteric]